


Orion Pax's Song: Set Me on Fire

by EbonyAura



Series: Metal: Cybertron's Rock and Roll [6]
Category: Transformers: Prime
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxiety, Developing Relationship, Drama & Romance, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Heavy Angst, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Mentions of Nightmares, Politics, References to Depression, Rock and Roll, Suggestive Themes, mentions of abuse, referenced attempted suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-16
Updated: 2019-01-16
Packaged: 2019-10-11 00:48:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,085
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17436680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EbonyAura/pseuds/EbonyAura
Summary: Are anger and agony truly better than misery?Imagine at the end of their first world tour, Optimus and Megatron are invited to perform at a fancy bonding ceremony. But when one of the first songs Optimus ever wrote is requested, Megatron can only watch from a distance as he relapses into the grief they'd both thought was a thing of the past.The Decepticon is about to find out something new about the Prime, something dark that would've been better off if it stayed buried. Will it be enough to push him off the edge of sanity he clings to?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Iamthelibrarian](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Iamthelibrarian/gifts).



> Well this took every brain cell that was left in my head... But this was a request, and they shall be honored.
> 
> Which reminds me! If you would like to request a certain pair be written about next, or even a certain character, I will honor all requests to the best of my ability!
> 
> None of the songs quoted in this story or the characters belong to me. They are the property of their respective owners.  
> Enjoy!

A chorus of laughter echoed through the dining room, ranging from shrill to gravelly to throaty. Each voice that rang out was accompanied by a set of fluttering seeker wings, making the whole area a mirage of twitching and shiny colors. On the far end of the room, in the corner opposite of the fuel tables, the entertainment of this night cycle’s ceremony sat beside each other, joining into the laughter at the hilarious story just told. It was always customary to embarrass the scrap out of the bots of honor at their own celebration.  
  
The blue seeker at center stage held a microphone in one servo and a cube of high grade in the other. He waited for the laughter to die down before coming to his speech’s conclusion.  
  
“Well then Nightwing, we had a good flight. But I know you and Starstreak will have so many more. To the new bonds!”  
  
He raised his cube high.  
  
_“To the new bonds!”_  
  
The rest of the room echoed and applauded as the blue seeker passed off the microphone to the event coordinator. From there, soft music fell from the speakers dotting the walls, and the room returned to the sounds of idle chatter.  
  
“ _Bleh!_ Can Vos manufacture their high grade to be anymore tart??”  
  
Optimus Prime cast an amused glance at his partner, chuckling lightly at the disgusted sneer he gave the cube in his clawed servo. He set down his own cube and folded his arms in front of him on the fancy black tablecloth.  
  
“Seekers are bots of particular taste, Megatron. They desire more flavor. I would think you’d know this, as you enquired your flight mode from seeker coding.”  
  
The silver Kaonian set the cube down and pushed it away with another crinkle of his lip plates. Then, he side-eyed the Prime with a glare.  
  
“Yes well, my tastes were refined to the stronger mineral grades in Kaon.”  
  
Megatron’s critical gaze wandered up from the cube towards the front of room, where the bonded couple sat at the highest table. He huffed.  
  
But even if I _were_ a fully coded seeker, or shall we say, the progeny of the council representative of Vos—”  
  
He gestured towards Nightwing, the dark blue seeker of the newly bonded couple, and Optimus’ optics followed the pointed claw. Not far from that table, in another corner, sat the council representative of Vos and his bonded. The creators of Nightwing.  
  
“—I wouldn’t dream of spending so many thousands of credits on such a waste of good high grade. Not to mention this crystal dining hall, or _our_ performance.”  
  
Optimus listened to his partner’s small rant with a small shrug. He wasn’t fond of the flavor of the high grade either, it tasted sour and raunchy. And Megatron was right, they had been offered way too much to perform for this event, but at least one of the two of them had to be halfway polite. There were guests as well as entertainment to the ceremony.  
  
“It is customary that when a sire of either of the couple is present, they will handle the expenses of the ceremony. Sparklings are rare enough to be had on Cybertron, what creator _wouldn’t_ want to spoil their creation on this day?”  
  
The Prime picked out a rust stick from a basket in the middle of their table and nibbled on it while Megatron thought over what he said with a slow nod.  
  
“You prove a valid point, Optimus. However, it will not cease my suspicions that at least half the credits used for this ceremony by the sire, were in fact siphoned from taxes paid by the citizens of Vos… I’ll be donating my share of this night cycle’s profits back to Vos’s science facilities. They’ve been attempting to upgrade their technology without the proper funding for too long.”  
  
The Decepticon lead singer grumbled. Optimus recycled his optics at the statement before a smile pulled at his lip plates. Sliding his rust stick-free servo across the table, he grasped Megatron’s arm strut with a light squeeze, making his partner turn his gaze back to him.  
  
“Then I shall do so as well, Megatron… I only wish others saw you for the honorable mech you truly are.”  
  
Megatron’s sturdy field wavered at the spark-felt comment from his partner. But then he shared a sly grin, pulling his arm from the Iaconian’s grasp to instead intertwine their servos.  
  
“Careful what you say, my Prime, you might ruin my monstrous reputation. I may have to flip every table in this room and chase every seeker out with their wings tucked, just to thwart your statement.”  
  
Optimus’ grin also turned sly as his thumb absently traced over the back of the other’s sharp knuckle.  
  
“Oh my, that would most certainly uphold your feared status among the masses… Perhaps I’ll join you in the riot, just to thwart the stereotype of us ‘soft-spoken’ Iaconians. Then, we’ll turn up Metal radio and dine from the leftover high grade.”  
  
His partner chuckled darkly, and his spiked shoulders minutely rolled with the action. He raised the Prime’s servo to his lip plates, pressing a lingering kiss to his digits, and he purred.  
  
“Is it any wonder why I adore you, Optimus?”  
  
He spoke against each digit, venting hot air against them, and the Prime hummed at the electricity that shot up his arm strut.  
  
“A declaration of adoration, on only our fourth date? You are a scandalous brute, Tron.”  
  
Optimus quipped with a laugh, and Megatron took his sarcasm in stride.  
  
“ _Third_ date, my Prime. I don’t count sharing a morning meal with Motormaster on the way here.”  
  
The humor flicked between their fields as their magnetic edges attached and split apart from each other, as if playing tug of war. It was a wonder all the tricks you could learn with your field when you had enough time on your servos on an empty tour bus.  
  
Optimus enjoyed the warm quiet between them, until something from earlier on in their conversation came back to forefront and he shifted his digits in the other’s grasp for attention.  
  
“Oh Megatron, I never had the chance to ask, how did Kaon’s election for new government officials turn out the other cycle?”  
  
Immediately, the Kaonian’s optics brightened. He lowered the Prime’s servo from his intake back to the table and his expression turned to smug satisfaction.  
  
“Ah, well you’ll be happy to hear that our current council representative has _not_ been re-elected. Even if he rigged the voting calculations in his favor, which we all know is true even if enforcers can’t prove it.”  
  
The Prime chuckled at his dramatic shrug.  
  
“We now have a representative who _knows_ how to run our city-state, without depleting us of all our credits for his own self gain. It is only a few cycles later, and he has reinstalled trading agreements with Shanix and Helex. Our economy is already seeing much more revenue than it has in the past decade.”  
  
Megatron’s smugness dissipated into pure satisfaction and pride for his city-state. His partner’s fond smile grew a little more.  
  
“That is wonderful news! In addition, now that the Decepticons have toured worldwide, other city-states should begin to respect Kaon’s taste in music.”  
  
The lead singer of the Decepticons nodded in agreement.  
  
“Indeed. And I have you, as well as a certain agent of ours, to thank for that.”  
  
Optimus’ spark pulsed at the Kaonian’s own deeply meant gratitude, and his optics averted shyly to the table top. Another comfortable silence filled the gap between them, but they made no attempt to fill it. As much as they enjoyed talking, after all they could sit and talk for groons without pause, they also enjoyed the peace of quiet moments in between. When nothing grabbed at their attention, and they could devote to exploring each other further, learning and delving into each other’s personalities like they were the finest oil bath. Both were eager to seek, but eternally patient when it came to the other. After all, they had time.  
  
A few kliks passed by in shared peace. When it was interrupted again, this time it wasn’t by either lead singer.  
  
“—we don’t even know if they’re taking requests anymore!”  
  
“It never hurts to ask!”  
  
“It’s so late into the cycle Star! The ceremony will be ending soon!”  
  
“Oh, come on! You were the one who wants to hear it so bad, and so do I!”  
  
Both Autobot and Decepticon recycled their optics at the high-pitched voices coming their way and turned to see two femme seekers pushing each other towards their table. The white femme adorned with a matching white cloak led the way, and they quickly recognized her as one of the newly bonded. Their servos pulled apart, and Optimus smiled kindly as they finally reached their table.  
  
“Ah, good evening cycle Starstreak. Congratulations to you and Nightwing on your newly forged bond.”  
  
Her white wings fluttered at his acknowledgement, and her cloak shook with their movement. Beside her, Starstreak’s companion’s wings folded against her back in shy embarrassment, halfway hiding behind her.  
  
“Thank you so much Optimus Prime! Megatron! And thank you again for coming! Oh, you both _rock!_ We are such big fans! Your duets are absolutely incredible!!”  
  
Megatron smirked and Optimus chuckled at the excited fields of their fans.  
  
“Well, thank you. Your compliments are appreciated.”  
  
Starstreak seemed to be on the edge of squeaking in joy, but she reigned herself in and cleared her intake to speak.  
  
“We know that it’s near the end of the ceremony, and that your performance is complete for the night cycle… But my friend was wondering if she could hear one more Autobot song before the end?”  
  
Both singers raised a curious brow plate. Optimus leaned over to peek at the seeker hiding behind Starstreak’s cloak.  
  
“Oh? And just what song might that be, my young friend?”  
  
Her optics widened at his kind smile and she ducked back behind Starstreak, muttering a phrase into her backplates. The newly bonded seeker rolled her optics at the action.  
  
“I’m pretty sure he won’t hear you if you mutter it at my wings.”  
  
The seeker only muttered again. Starstreak sighed and turned back to the singers.  
  
“It’s a song from one of your first albums, ‘Set Me on Fire’?”  
  
_Set Me on Fire._  
  
Optimus’ smile slowly faded as the title echoed in his audials…


	2. Chapter 2

Orion walked into the living space, his servos clenched tightly at his sides to keep them from shaking.  
  
“Ratchet? I finished it.”  
  
The orange and white bot looked up from the datapad he’d been reading.  
  
“The song you’ve been working on? It’s about time! Let me see!”  
  
Slowly, he lifted on of his servos from his side and reached into his subspace, pulling out the datapad that had his work from the past two stellar cycles saved. Ratchet pulled him to the couch, sitting beside him as he took the datapad. His optics flicked back when he noticed the servo was beginning to tremble.  
  
“Today’s a bad cycle?”  
  
He asked promptly. Orion nodded. Ratchet set the datapad on his lap and took his friend’s servos into his own, rubbing them with the tender professionalism of a medic.  
  
“Did you listen to that album by Chromedome I told you about?”  
  
Orion shrugged.  
  
“Yes. But I don’t like it. It has too many slow-paced songs for a fast-paced band.”  
  
Ratchet snickered and nodded as he focused on his friend’s servos.  
  
“I thought the same when I first heard it. Now, let’s take a look at that song.”  
  
He placed Orion’s servos on his left arm strut, and said bot was grateful to have it to hold onto. Ratchet picked up the datapad from his lap, turning it on to find the edited and re-edited lyrics scripted into the format of verses and chorus. Orion leaned his chin on Ratchet’s shoulder as his friend’s optics scanned the wording, and his optics dimmed to focus on the emotions threaded through the other’s field. Concentration. Comfort. Patience. A small hint of being taken aback as each nanosecond ticked by.  
  
_“It’s powerful.”_  
  
Ratchet finally stated as he glanced up from the datapad at Orion. His optics brightened back into focus.  
  
“Beautifully worded, of course, I wouldn’t expect anything less… But it’s very emotionally powerful. Are you sure you would want to perform this?”  
  
His field was suddenly threaded by concern, wrapping around him automatically. Orion knew Ratchet was just looking out for him. But it was his song. It was his choice.  
  
He nodded in affirmation.  
  
“I do… I think it might help me to come to better terms with—”  
  
Orion cut himself off before he could wander any further down that dark path. He grasped Ratchet’s arm strut tighter to ground himself, vented slowly before resuming speech.  
  
“—And to help let it go.”  
  
Ratchet nodded slowly, feeling the determined edge of Orion’s field.  
  
“Alright. I won’t stop you.”

... 

“Optimus!”  
  
The Prime jolted back at attention, glancing over at Megatron beside him.  
  
“Do you remember which song she speaks of?”  
  
He suddenly remembered that two female seekers were watching him as well. Immediately pushing the memory file to the back of his processor, he smiled at them kindly once again.  
  
“Yes, I do remember it. I can grant that request.”  
  
This time, both seekers did not hide a shrill squeak of joy. They babbled ‘thank you’ before whirling away and conversing excitedly, bounding towards the stage to explain the situation to the DJ.  
  
Optimus was about to rise from his seat and follow when a servo on his shoulder held him in place. His optics met a small degree of worry concealed in the Kaonian’s crimson optics, as well as in the field that tugged at him.  
  
“Are you sure, Optimus?”  
  
He recycled his optics at the concern.  
  
“What do you mean?”  
  
“Your optics dimmed after she mentioned the title. You seemed distant, as if it signified a memory.”  
  
The Prime’s spark churned in its casing, but he forced himself to remain calm. Reaching up to grasp the other’s servo on his shoulder, he gave his partner a small smile.  
  
“It was one of the first songs I ever wrote, before the Autobots had come together as a band. It merely took me a klik to recall the lyrics. Don’t worry about me.”  
  
Megatron slowly nodded once again, but his optics watched him carefully.  
  
“Alright, if you say so.”  
  
Optimus turned his helm to press a chaste kiss against his partner’s servo, before he rose from his seat, letting the Kaonian’s servo drift over his arm strut as he walked away.  
  
When his partner’s servo was gone, and he stepped closer to the stage, Optimus’ faceplates fell. His servos clutched and unclutched into loose fists as his spark resumed churning. When was the last time he’d sang this song? His field flicked with building tension, and he pulled it in tight. It had to be a long time, he couldn’t even recall the memory file of the last time he’d performed this in concert.  
  
But he could sure as Pit remember the first time…

 

“The band’s all set on stage, Orion. Are you ready for this?”  
  
Orion looked up at Ratchet from his untouched mug of high grade in front of him. His optics were wide and bursting with negative emotion, his servos were violently shaking, and his ventilations were way too quick.  
  
“I-I… I don’t… I can’t…”  
  
He stuttered. The lyrics rolled in his processor again, brushing up against memory files that could easily drag him into the dark depths of misery. Was this the right choice? Could he dare to sing again, five stellar cycles after the event he would not name?  
  
Ratchet’s optics cycled wide and he immediately sat across from him at the bar table, taking his shaking servos tightly.  
  
“Hey, hey, Orion look at me. Take deep vents.”  
  
Orion clutched back at his friend’s servos like a life line and gasped before dragging in a deep vent.  
  
Intake. Release. Intake. Release. Intake. Release…  
  
“There you go… Remember Orion, this is your choice. You don’t have to do this now, you can wait another few stellar cycles, practice on your own for a little while longer before performing in front of others.”  
  
Ratchet’s optics were a vast sea of calm, and Orion buried himself in their depths. His spark flared once more before settling.  
  
“It’s up to you.”  
  
His optics flicked towards the small stage, with two electric guitar players and a drummer already set up, waiting for him. He could’ve scoffed. If it were up to him, he wouldn’t be here. If it were up to him, Ultra Magnus would’ve never been late to any of the Temple gatherings. If it were up to him, he wouldn’t have any of this crumbling depression, anxiety, or horrid nightmares hovering over his helm. If it were up to him, he’d be in his apartment reading a datapad, curled up against a sturdy blue frame and reveling in the love of a new bond…  
  
But Primus didn’t leave anything up to Orion, did he?  
  
Anger fueled from his fear and misery prompted him to recycle his optics, sit up and take another long vent. He focused his gaze back to Ratchet.  
  
“If I don’t do this now, I never will again… I need to do this Ratchet.”  
  
The orange and white bot watched silently as Orion rose from his seat, feeling his limbs gain strength from the energy pumping through them. Setting his optics to the stage, his legs struts carried him without missing a step.  
  
“Orion!”  
  
He paused at the edge of the stage, turning back to Ratchet. Said bot winked at him with a smirk.  
  
“Watch your note transitions. They can turn rough if you let them go.”  
  
Orion’s lip plates twitched up into a small smirk in return. Then he stepped on stage, and the band nodded to him as he took his place at the microphone. The crowd at the bar was small, much smaller than the crowds at the temple ever were, but it was enough pairs of optics to feel daunting.  
  
Optics upon him were no uncommon battle.  
  
His own fell shut, feeling the lights shining on his armor. Warm, gentle, like a loving caress…  
  
It burned like the Pit...

 

The sound of an electric guitar guttered a low beat four times in a row, four beats at a time.  
  
Optimus didn’t even need to count them, remembering this rhythm so much more precisely than he would ever let on. His servo came up to grasp the microphone tightly, yanking it towards him as his snarl began the song.  
  
_“Oh, what a cold, dark world it is_  
_to walk through alone_  
_with a fear-filled head.”_  
  
He was shot back into the world of his memories, suddenly standing again at the front of a small stage in an Iaconian bar. The drummer behind him snapped his sticks on the base, following him in step with a sound like cracking metal.  
  
_“Thinking of losing you_  
_is a haunted song and_  
_a dread much worse_  
_than the fear of death.”_  
  
Optics snapped up from their high grade to stare at the Iaconian with such a sinfully beautiful voice. His spark roiled in its casing from anger, but it only made it easier to ignore them all. It was so _easy_ to sing again, like walking after you’ve been sitting down for a while. Lighter notes strummed on an electric guitar next to him added another melody, a counter in the suspense growing in his lyrics. Orion’s frame fell into the rhythm wrapping around him, his optics shuttering shut as he began to sway.  
  
_“Now I feel the fear_  
_rising up, climbing up,_  
_taking over my body!”_  
  
Optimus had no control of his frame as it moved. His knee struts bent, and his hips moved to their own accord, pushing side to side as the energy built in the furthest reaches of his limb struts. The optics of every seeker in the dining hall were focused on him, as if enchanted by the sinful spell he’d unknowingly cast. Oh, how easy it was to drink the energy it poured into him. For a moment, he lingered in the familiar taste of poison.  
  
_“And I feel my pulse starting up,_  
_waking me again…”_  
  
The energy suddenly shot to his roiling spark. It flared hot and trembled. Orion’s optics snapped online.  
  
_“Open my optics!_  
_I'm reaching for you!_  
_Set me on fire!_  
_Set me on fire!”_  
  
The sounds of each instrument from the band collided into chaos. His voice lifted three octaves higher as they pummeled into the chorus. Lights above him, beside him, all around him licked and burned at his frame. His servos reached out as if trying to grasp for another bot, plead for help from the horrible pain the light caused.  
  
_“I'm burning inside!_  
_I'm waiting for you!_  
_Set me on fire!_  
_Set me on fire!”_  
  
When the anarchy of sound finally pummeled to the ground, it ceased in favor of the snap of the drums. Reality faded back into sight. Optimus’ arms yanked back to hold the microphone in a shaking grasp.  
  
_“Your servo in mine, oh,_  
_I feel the fire…_  
_Two sparks that beat, oh,_  
_to feed the fire!”_  
  
As quickly as it receded, the instruments came crashing back. The guitars pounded at his sides, the drums beat at his back. Around him, the band rocked and moved with the angry rhythm, completely absorbed in the fantastic storm. He let it take him too, listening to his own emotion and feeling them consume him whole.  
  
_“You are the spark_  
_that shines a light_  
_where we could_  
_belong together, factionless.”_  
  
Reality flashed, and the band was suddenly gone. He was alone on a stage way too big for just him. It felt cold, frigidly cold as the light countered it with the burn. Sensations were quickening, beginning to blur together. Wings fallen still were wavering, the crystal glass around him was melting.  
  
_“Let's keep it burning bright_  
_'til we're floating away._  
_'Til we're ashes,_  
_dancing inside the flames!”_  
  
The guitar struck the lighter notes once again. Like flipping a switch, Orion’s body swayed side to side in its own wild exaggeration.  
  
_“Now I feel the fear_  
_rising up, climbing up,_  
_taking over my body!”_  
  
He snarled as the energy within him threw his spark into a gutter. Whistles emerged from the crowd, taking heed of his dance in Unicron’s flames. His audials heard them, but his processors never registered them. He didn’t even know if they were seekers at a bonding ceremony or hitchhikers in a bar.  
  
_“And I feel my pulse starting up,_  
_waking me again…”_  
  
When the energy burst in his chest, his spark nearly collapsed under its weight. Orion gasped at the pain that was leaking from its flickering tendrils.  
  
_“Open my optics!_  
_I'm reaching for you!_  
_Set me on fire!_  
_Set me on fire!”_  
  
The microphone was ripped from its stand, and his peds pounded the stage as the chorus struck the world around him like war.  
  
_“I'm burning inside!_  
_I'm waiting for you!_  
_Set me on fire!_  
_Set me on FI—”_  
  
Optimus doubled over, servo clutched into a fist at his abdominal plates as his voice went up _higher_ on the octave. His optics clenched shut as the note drew higher and higher before it reached the top.  
  
_“—RE!!”_  
  
Like servos had just wrenched Orion upright, his body jerked straight, and his helm lifted high. The microphone hovered over him as he screamed a beautiful cry of pain. The air, the bots, everything around him fell still. The world became quiet outside the chaos of rock and roll as he let all the agony that had trapped him in a cage rush out into the song.  
  
_“Ohhh, ohhh, ohhh!_  
_Ohhh, ohhh, ohhh!”_  
  
He growled and cried all at once as he sang. Emotions never quite forgotten rushed around him and clawed at him like the darkness of a nightmare.  
  
Suddenly, even the instruments went quiet, and his frame’s movement ceased as raging optics cast out at those watching him.  
  
_“Your servo in mine, oh,_  
_I feel the fire…_  
_Two sparks that beat, oh,_  
_to feed the fire…”_  
  
The guitar’s light notes hummed. Darkness swallowed Orion whole, cool and all encompassing. He let the storm drown him, settle in his vents, drag him down under until the life cycle he knew was nothing more than a memory…  
  
_“Open my optics!_  
_I'm reaching for you!_  
_Set me on fire!_  
_Set me on fire!”_  
  
Optimus woke to the raging fire that burned at his frame. Crystals shining above him twisted and shattered into millions of fragments of light. Twitching colors blended and swirled in his vision. The world was a spinning whirl of color and emotion. Dark emotions tore and ravaged, raping his barely healed spark.  
  
_“I'm burning inside!_  
_I'm waiting for you!_  
_Set me on fire!_  
_Set me on fire!”_  
  
It was pure, unending anarchy for his spark, but oh did it feel so _good_ to scream. To shout. To sing his pain at the audials of unknowing bots. They would never understand, but he didn’t ask them too. Orion only asked that a certain deity that had damned him to a life without love was listening. His optics lowered to the ground beneath his peds, knowing that deep underneath them Primus sat in his own glory laughing as he ruined innocent lives. It was maddening.  
  
_“Ohhh, ohhh, ohhh!_  
_Set me on fire!_  
_Set me on fire!”_  
  
It was too much. Too many sensations, too many emotions, too many memories, and too much for Optimus to handle. Reality blurred in and out of focus too fast for him to keep up with. Was he Orion again? Was he Optimus Prime? Was this all a dream? Had it never happened? Where was the floor beneath him? His spark shook from fear and wavered from misery all at once.  
  
_“Ohhh, ohhh, ohhh!_  
_Set me on fire!_  
_Set me on FI—”_  
  
Optimus bowed and clutched at his chest so hard his digits left scratch marks in their wake.  
  
Orion felt murderous rage and ecstasy flood his energon all at once, cursing Primus’ existence.  
  
Rock and roll twisted sound around them, waiting to explode, waiting to shatter the void of silent pain.  
  
Enforcers stood in front of him, expressions absent of emotion. Long pews surrounded them, an aisle and an open temple door just behind them.  
  
Twisted sky-blue metal. Crushed shoulder armor. Broken optic lenses. Cold, torn pieces of a spark case.  
  
_“—RE!!!”_  
  
He rose, and the magnificent high note shrieked among the stars. Reality slammed down on him hard, bringing everything in the dining hall back to sharp focus. Every seeker sat in a mesmerized haze as he snarled the final, breathtaking notes.  
  
_“Ohhh, ohhh, ohhh!”_  
  
The drums slammed a few beats more, and the song abruptly came to an end.  
  
Optimus stood in the wake of his self-destruction. Heavy pants were released from his intake as his optics shuttered dimly. His field lay pooled at his peds, echoing emotional and physical exhaustion. His servo, still clutching his chest plates together tightly, felt the vibration of his whining spark. Applause surrounded him, and his optics brightened into focus as blurry figures turned into amazed seekers commending him for the outstanding performance. Slowly, his frame moved to replace the microphone back onto the stand. His plating tingled and itched in the aftermath of their invisible burns. The audience unknowingly applauded his relapse into Orion’s final cycles, and he could’ve burst out in bitter laughter.  
  
Instead, Optimus silently left the stage of the dining hall, optics cast down to hide their turmoil. His peds retraced previous steps back to the corner. The applause faded as he retook his seat, and another seeker took his place at the microphone to make the closing remarks and conclude the ceremony.  
  
His optics stared dully at the black tablecloth. Phantom warmth from burns streaked over his plating, colliding with the phantom chill that settled in his energon. His processor was numb of thought but losing focus on the surrounding world. The edges of his vision blurred, and he knew that building coolant was to blame.  
  
An enormous clawed servo that glittered silver in the light slid into his sight across the table. Slowly, it crept towards his servo, digits sliding over his own and intertwining them together. The Prime’s helm turned. Megatron suddenly existed in his shattered reality, field overwhelmed by distress and reaching out. His crimson optics reflected it.  
  
“… Are you alright?”  
  
He stared back numbly. Ratchet had asked the same question after the first time he sang that song. Orion had responded with a half-demented grin, saying he’d never felt better to curse Primus. Optimus only felt it now as a reminder of a happily ever after gone wrong.  
  
But unlike Ratchet, Megatron saw through him in a moment’s notice. There was no hiding anything from him. He didn’t want to hide the hurt anymore.  
  
“No.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song Optimus (and Orion) performed in this chapter quoted Set Me on Fire by Flyleaf.  
> Another favorite of mine, look it up.


	3. Chapter 3

Motormaster let his door swing open to the lead singers, feeling them trudge on with tired peds before swinging it closed behind them.  
  
Megatron’s servo pressed against the small of his partner’s back plates, subtly guiding him inside. His optics narrowed in the slightest when he noticed the Prime wince at the tour bus’s bright interior.  
  
“Dim your lights, Motormaster.”  
  
He growled quietly. The tour bus said nothing, immediately darkening the lamps and lights along the ceiling and walls. The Kaonian turned his attention back to his partner.  
  
“Sit, Optimus. I’ll heat you a cube.”  
  
The Prime wordlessly obeyed, lowering himself to the corner of the couch. Megatron watched him until he was settled, then heading towards the small counter by the pantry cabinets where the energon heater sat. He removed a cube, swinging the cabinet closed and placing it into the heater to warm.  
  
Optimus was unmoving, optics unfocused and distant in a stare dead ahead. His servos trembled on his lap, only a hint of the inner turmoil they signified. Deafening silence surrounded them both, and it frightened him immensely. Megatron’s absence left a cold shadow in his place, and it threatened to swallow him. He remembered that shadow. It was every nightmare, every panic attack, and every gloom that consumed him in the wake of Ultra Magnus’ death.  
  
Kliks passed in that silence. Until Megatron heard his partner suck in a shuttering vent.  
  
“It wasn’t one of my first songs… It was the first one I ever wrote.”  
  
The Kaonian’s helm turned towards the Prime as he spoke. His voice reminded him of one in the middle of a dream.  
  
“Ultra Magnus had passed onto the well five stellar cycles before. I knew if I didn’t sing then, I never would again.”  
  
His optics began to widen at the mentioning of the Prime’s previous partner. Megatron pushed a claw against the heater, turning it off. He walked back towards the Autobot lead singer.  
  
“It was written for him… A sort of goodbye, I suppose. A way to move on with my life cycles and let him go.”  
  
Optimus didn’t react when Megatron sat beside him on the couch, in possession of his full attention. It was the first time since they’d met that the Prime spoke of the enforcer. For the Prime, it was the first time he’d spoken of him in a _long_ time.  
  
“The night cycle I first performed it, I cursed Primus to the Pits... He took the mech I loved. Ripped him from my servos on the cycle our grip was supposed to be made eternal. He made him _suffer_ a horrible fate on a cycle that was supposed to be one of _happiness!”_  
  
Optimus’ helm tilted towards his partner, faceplate twisting into a grimace.  
  
“I’d never felt such anger for another living being before. Such _hate_. There were so many times I almost walked right up to Iacon’s Temple and burned it to the ground. It terrified me. More than the attacks of anxiety or the days of depression or even the nightmares… After that night cycle, I’d hoped to never feel such an emotion again.”  
  
_But you did._  
  
The unspoken words hung in the air between them.  
  
_You felt it every time you stepped onto the stage, every time Agent Fowler abused you, and every time someone would remind you of him._  
  
A lone stream of coolant fell from his blue optics, streaking down his faceplate.  
  
“The blame I’d placed upon myself for his death was _nothing_ compared to the guilt I felt for my hatred. Ultra Magnus knew me as I had been with the Temple; soft-spoken and kind and _hopeful!_ How could he even _look_ upon the angry, miserable creature I’d become!”  
  
Optimus gasped, and he turned his helm away, raw hurt welling in his intake and making it hard to continue.  
  
“Some cycles I would punch the mirrors I looked into for more than a nanosecond and break them into pieces. I’d pick up the shards and scratch at my armor for so long the paint would peel and energon would leak… One morning cycle Ratchet told me he walked into the wash-racks and found me in stasis on the floor in a pool of dried energon. The only part of it I remember was cutting at my neck cables the night cycle before.”  
  
Megatron’s spark flared, and he sucked in a vent. _That_ was not information he’d ever been privy to before.  
  
The Prime shook his helm at himself, shame and guilt flooding his field alongside the hurt. His shoulders began to tremble, and from there his broken, heavy spark cracked his fragile state of strength.  
  
“I’m a _monster_ Megatron! A _despicable monster!_ I didn’t deserve Ultra Magnus! I don’t deserve you! How can you stand to be around me?! By the Allspark _forgive_ me! _Forgive me Magnus! I’m so sorry-!!”_  
  
The Decepticon’s spark seized, and he gathered the Prime in his arms before he could say anything else, holding him tight and wrapping his field around his partner. Megatron couldn’t stand it, the sight of his Prime so weak and ready to crumble.  
  
_So help me Primus… What have you done to him?_  
  
Any words Optimus might’ve said next dissolved into wrenching sobs. His arms flung themselves around the Kaonian’s silver neck armor, and he cried. Coolant streamed down the Kaonian’s chest plates where Optimus burrowed his faceplates. He screamed against gleaming silver. He cursed Primus as well as himself, hurling insults and profanities that would’ve outdone the doc-bot himself. He begged for Ultra Magnus’ forgiveness. He took out all his rage on Megatron, and then begged for his forgiveness. Oh, what a tragic mess Optimus Prime had turned out to be, and yet the Kaonian never left his side.  
  
“You are no monster, Optimus Prime.”  
  
Megatron rumbled, and Optimus gasped to intake air, exhaustion weighing down on him more heavily by the moment from crying. His helm tipped back to look up at his partner.  
  
“You are a bot who’s been wronged and had no choice but to suffer the consequences.”  
  
Silver claws raised to cup his cheek plate, a thumb moving to wipe away the coolant from tear-stricken optics.  
  
“Before the Decepticon band came together, I was a miner in my city-state. The working conditions in the tunnels were wretched, and the pay was worse, but it was the job I’d been manufactured for. I rose long before the sun and left the tunnels long after dark. For the first fraction of my life cycles, I never saw the sun, felt it’s warmth, or even knew of daylight. To the regular citizens of Kaon, _we_ were the monsters… But I swore to myself, one cycle I would see the sun and feel the light against my plating.”  
  
The thumb stroked over plating streaked with coolant, and Megatron shifted backwards to let the Prime lean against him.  
  
“The first time I ever saw the sunrise… Oh, it was absolutely _magnificent_ , Optimus. Here I stood surrounded by the rust winds and the empty darkness, until suddenly, a great ball of white light emerged over the horizon. And instantly, I could see _everything_ , every color of every object around me, without even using night vision! That’s when I realized I could be more than what I was manufactured for… For the longest time, Optimus, I held that first sunrise to the highest standard. I would think ‘Could anything possibly be more beautiful than that?’ But then I met you, and I realized that there was in fact, someone more beautiful than the sunrise.”  
  
Heat flushed through his frame, and Optimus laughed shyly despite his tears. He leaned his helm into Megatron’s servo.  
  
“I’ve said this once before, my Prime, but I will say it a thousand times over again if I have to. You are kind, you are tender, you are courageous, and you are strong. Your willingness to sacrifice everything for others are without bounds. You’ve shown me how rock and roll can give a bot purpose, and soothe great wounds... You have given me back my own purpose, and most cycles I feel I have given you almost nothing in return... You are everything Ultra Magnus knew you as, and more.”  
  
The Kaonian sighed heavily. Optimus’ optics widened for a moment as he was suddenly shifted backward to sit up straight. Megatron came up with him, and his vents stilled as his partner leaned his forehelm against the part in his chest plates.  
  
“Optimus Prime, I do not know what I would do if you’d passed on from this life before we could meet. I do not want to imagine a world without you… Even as miserable, angry, and hateful as you are.”  
  
Megatron quipped, and Optimus chuckled quietly. Lifting a servo, the Prime rested it against the back of the Decepticon’s helm, and his field finally weaved into the other. The Kaonian listened to his partner’s spark pulse in its case, and he smiled absently.  
  
“Ultra Magnus was a lucky mech, Optimus. And I am sure even after all you have done, he would forgive you no matter what.”  
  
Something about those words coming from Megatron eased Optimus more than anything ever had in _ano cycles_. The Prime pulled at his partner’s helm, prompting him to lift his gaze from his chest plates, and Optimus leaned him back to press a long, lingering kiss to his lip plates.


	4. Chapter 4

Optimus awoke from recharge late the next morning to the sight of the highway rolling by through the window, and the melody of an acoustic guitar.  
  
Sitting up from the pillow put under his helm and the thermal blanket tucked around his frame, Optimus recycled his optics multiple times as he tried to recall when he’d returned to the bunks last night cycle.  
  
_I didn’t._  
  
The strokes of low alternating notes from the guitar floated to his audials. He couldn’t help a smile. His spark pulsed at the conclusion that Megatron had carried him to the bunks after he’d fallen into recharge on the couch with him.  
  
With a small vent of resentment, the Prime crawled out of the bunk, pulling the blanket with him to lazily wrap around his shoulders. It dragged the ground around his peds as he walked out towards the open living space of Motormaster’s interior. His partner sat on the floor, leaning his back strut against the seat of the couch, long peds stretched out over the floor. His optics were dim as he played, his upper right arm strut leaning against the aged guitar while he strummed, and the digits of his right servo pressing against each string with practiced care. Optimus’ small smile grew, and he crept over to sit beside the Kaonian.  
  
As Optimus shuffled the blanket over his leg struts, Megatron caught wind of the movement beside him and paused mid-note. He glanced over at the Prime who leaned his back against the seat cushion of the couch, and his lip plate twitched up.  
  
“We passed into Tarn about half a groon ago. Motormaster infers that we will reach Iacon by the end of the cycle.”  
  
Optimus hummed and nodded against the seat, pulling the blanket up and over his shoulder again.  
  
“I believe I will go back to recharge, then.”  
  
Megatron nodded back and nudged the Prime’s field tenderly with his. He was about to return his attention to his instrument, when a flash of blue and red in the edge of his vision indicated that the Prime had pushed himself off the couch, but not up to walk away. The Kaonian watched as Optimus plucked a throw pillow from the couch above him and scooted forward. He then flopped on his side, placing the pillow under his audial and resting his helm against the end of his silver thigh strut. Megatron couldn’t help a chuckle at the lazy action.  
  
“I doubt the floor is more comfortable than your bunk.”  
  
Optimus shrugged a shoulder, craning his helm back to see the Kaonian through his smokestack.  
  
“No, but you are.”  
  
He turned back over, and Megatron watched the Prime pull the thermal blanket over himself and burrow into it with fond amusement. His optics came back to rest on his guitar and his digits moved to strum, but they hovered as he paused. Glancing back up at the thermal blanket cocoon his partner had become, he smiled at the back of the blue helm and antenna.  
  
Optimus onlined one optic when he heard a different rhythm begin. The familiar symphony of Alpha Trion registered to his tired processor, and his lip plates quirked into another lop sided smile. Behind him, Megatron had begun to quietly sing the lyrics to the song.  
  
_“You're going through so much._  
 _But I know that I could be the one to hold you._  
 _Every single day, I find it hard to say_  
 _I could be yours alone._  
 _You will see someday that all along the way_  
 _I was yours to hold.”_  
  
His field spread out, brushing against the other. When Megatron felt it, it was laced in complete ease, and something more. He couldn’t quite name it, but it was warm, and it felt like home. It was a wonderful feeling that he returned as their fields weaved together.  
  
_“I'm stretching but you're just out of reach…_  
 _I'm ready when you're ready for me.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song sung by Megatron at the end quoted Yours to Hold by Skillet.  
> Hope it was enjoyable!  
> I'm going to bed now.


End file.
